


home

by TallowCat



Series: Flowers & Tea [2]
Category: Splatoon
Genre: Other, i just wanted soft oc stuff, its nb/fem, t bc i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 14:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21120206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TallowCat/pseuds/TallowCat
Summary: sometimes posey thinks too much about those little bits





	home

i.

Chamomile’s home felt like a contrast to her own. 

Posey had things where they should be, books slipped neatly on shelves, clothes in drawers, towels hung and folded. Chamomile, however, seemed to thrive in a state of ‘it’s fine where it is’. Clothes weren’t folded, merely hung over a towel rack or ironing board, towels hung out on the floor, and anything that should have had a home was stuck wherever Chamomile happened to be at the time.

Posey didn’t  _ hate _ it, per say, but goodness it bothered her when she watched Millie nudge aside knick-knacks to put something that  _ wasn’t _ a knick-knack between them. She glared every time she saw Chamomile’s knife set surrounded by random bits and bobs. Both not safe and not where Posey thinks it should be.

Still, it’s not Posey’s home and she was able to restrain herself from fiddling with her partner’s things.

It just didn’t make sense in the Octoling’s mind - why, and how, someone would have things just...all over the place. It felt impractical, form over function. Though, maybe that shouldn’t have been such a surprise. From Posey’s experience Inklings  _ loved _ frivolity, things for the sake of it, fashion over function. Being ‘fresh’ seemed to be something ingrained in even the most solitary Inkling. 

Maybe that’s why it bothered her so much. 

Inkling’s brought up with...stuff, so much stuff. They had bright clothes, so many to choose from, little things that did nothing but they clambered over each other to get to it, odds and ends that they hung up for fun. Octolings, on the other hand? She… didn’t recall any of them having much of anything. Well, the ones in the military, anyway. She couldn’t say much for those who lived their lives outside of the soldiers. Their rooms were uniform,  _ they _ were uniform. All so similar at a glance. Rooms kept so neat and tidy, personal belongings nudged to the edge of your bunk, out of the way, no longer taking up space.

Her stomach curled.

Chamomile yawned, tossing their jacket over the standing ironing board. Lazily they slumped down next to Posey on the couch.

Frivolity for the sake of it…

“You’re thinking too hard,” rough as rocks and strained like catgut strings, that’s Chamomile’s voice for sure.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She cuddles under Millie’s arm.

“Your tentacles,” is all they need to say, barking a rough laugh.

Silently Posey curses the tendrils. Sure, she can make em wiggle and move as she pleases, but sometimes they just seem to have a mind of their own. And after being with Chamomile for so long - both as romantic partners and close friends - the squid had gotten fairly good at guessing Posey’s feelings. It was a bit like how some Inklings preferred to communicate through colour shifting their mantle.

“Just thinkin’ bout how we’re gonna mess up your team in tower control tomorrow!”

With a scoff Chamomile locked an arm around Posey’s neck.

“That so?!”

“Fuck yeah!”

Frivolity… hm…

Clutter. She’d called Chamomile’s home cluttered. But… maybe the words she was looking for was ‘lived in’. It didn’t sit quite right in Posey’s stomach, but it felt more right than before. It still bothered her to shell and back when she glanced at all the nonsense stacked around, but in light of her thoughts it felt a little more...placed.

Didn’t mean she had to like it!

  
ii.

They lived together now.

Wow.

That was quite a step. One that Posey really hadn’t expected so soon. Yet, here she was, awkwardly standing around as Chamomile carried box after box into their apartment. Of course she’d helped out with the smaller things, but a lot of the last boxes were way too heavy. 

One thing that had made itself obvious when clearing out Posey’s old home was that...she didn’t really have a lot of...stuff. She had the usual, obvious necessities, but not much else. She had some books, tools, a blanket she refused to get rid of, but...not much else.

Chamomile hadn’t said anything - they rarely did - but Posey had felt...judged. And she’d never felt judged by Chamomile before. That wasn’t to say Chamomile  _ was _ judging her, cause that was doubtful, but for some reason she was panicking that the squid who had so much random shit would judge her for  _ not _ having random crap.

‘ _ That should be the last one,’ _ Posey barely caught the hand motions, too lost in her own worry.

Why did it worry her? She’d never much cared for having random things before. She prided herself on keeping her space clear - save for the odd desk. Yet there was some unspoken shame in having very little to pack. Perhaps it was because she was so aware of Inklings being fashion over form, or maybe it was simply because  _ Chamomile _ had so much stuff for the sake of it.

‘ _ You can put stuff wherever. _ ’

Hah, so like Millie to not worry where things ended up.

“You can unpack utensils if you want,” she replied, “I’ll...go put my clothes away.”

The clattering of knives, forks, and all other silverware could be heard from Chamomile’s room - their room now. It brought the lightest of yellow blushes to Posey’s cheeks to think that. It wasn’t like she hadn’t slept here before, or stuck her clothes in the closet, some of her stuff hadn’t been back to her old place in months.

It let her think, being alone in the now shared room.

They were living together now. She was surrounded by bits and pieces that bothered her. It should have bothered her even more now that it was her place of residence. It was all the same stuff, in all the same places that had bothered her before. Yet now there was a bit of comfort. This was a place she could recognise. Chamomile’s knick-knacks, clothes, photos, all over the place… it was familiar. She could point out exactly when they’d gotten one thing or another, could memorise exactly where her hand had to go to grab the keys and not a dancing solar sunflower.

She’d known the same in her old home, which key was on which hook. But that felt so different. There was no little sound of that little sunflower wiggling back and forth.

She didn’t  _ like _ the clutter being everywhere.

But, maybe she liked the fact that there  _ was _ stuff. Chamomile’s stuff, their stuff, things with memories she could recall.

“Chamomile?”

Shuffling into the kitchen Posey couldn’t help but huff at the stack of books sitting on the little table.

“Those can’t stay there.”

‘ _ Put em where you want,’ _ was the response.

Looking around the kitchen and into the main room Posey found she’d decided on how she felt about the clutter around here. The things themselves didn’t bother her, or at least not as much as she first thought, but the way they were. It was the exact opposite to the uniform life she’d lived before. Personal things...were good, but no sort of organisation got her tentacles in a knot.

“Millie?”

“Mm?”

“You said I can put stuff where I want, yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Does that mean I can...move some things around?”

‘ _ It’s your home too, do what you like.’ _

The words may have felt blunt, but Posey could tell from their expression that it was meant kindly. And it lit a warmth inside Posey’s body. Their home. Her home too. They...had a home together. The thought that struck her was obvious, but it had only now hit. Chamomile’s home had been sorted how  _ Chamomile _ liked it -  _ their _ home (together) would be how they both liked it.

Nudging her her fingers to lace with Chamomile’s larger ones, the yellow Octoling couldn’t help her giddy smile. Their home… They’d both have things. They’d get new stuff together, mix their styles of clutter and minimal.

“You’re thinking again,” true to the guttural words Posey’s tentacles wriggled with happiness.

“‘M still thinking about that win we got against your team.”

Chamomile huffed, “it was close.”

“We still won! You sore about it?” she teased.

Arms looped around her middle and Posey was airborne, squealing and kicking her legs. 

“MILLIE!”

Teasing kisses were dotted on her neck, and the Inkling had that stupid smug grin on their face. The dropped kisses tickled her neck, making her laugh even harder the longer she was kept up.

“S-Stop!” she choked between squealing giggles, “we need to clean up!”

They didn’t end up doing much cleaning that night.

After all, they needed to break in the whole ‘living together’ thing with a lot of couch kisses.


End file.
